


i wanted the stars, you gave me the sky

by idoltina



Series: Garden of Shadows [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Breastfeeding, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Magic, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:53:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: wishesonfallenstars prompted: baby’s first magic.There’s that underlying current of concern she’s carried the last nine months, but it’s… mild, tame by comparison, and as Robin’s gaze drifts to their son once more he feels a slight sense of pride flare up in his chest. “You know,” he muses, shifting to sit next to her properly, their arms brushing against each other, “I have to hand it to him, for only being a few hours old, he’s already got remarkable problem-solving skills.”Or, the day their first child is born, Robin gets a glimpse of what it might be like to raise a child with magic.





	i wanted the stars, you gave me the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishesonfallenstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishesonfallenstars/gifts), [odangoatama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/odangoatama/gifts).



It’s quiet, usually so, as Robin makes his way through the dimly lit halls of the birthing center back to room twenty-three. The floor is broken up into patches of gray-white light as he passes a stretch of windows; moving through it is like being caught in the continuous shutter of a lens, the world blinking in and out of the shadows as he walks. The quiet, he can’t account for: he’s sure it’s not a typical occurrence — babies come into the world into their own time, after all — but it’s kind of… nice. In the absence of of screams or cries or joyous, incredulous laughter, the low, gentle murmur of voices and lyrical cadence of lullabies is soothing to his still somewhat frayed nerves. Dusk is calm here, today, as if magic has been made within these walls.

He can’t help chuckling as he approaches the door, smile curving onto his lips even as he shakes his head at the thought. But the smile stays, doesn’t fade as he leans against the doorjamb and just… takes a moment to simply look and try to let the sight before him sink in as the new reality. She’s sitting up against the headboard, Regina, hair swept into a ponytail over one shoulder, and even against the exhaustion that’s settled into every muscle and line of her body her smile seems _effortless_ , effusive and bright as she coos gently down at the baby nestled into the crook of her arm.

She’s _stunning_ like this really, a vision at the place where gray-white meets a soft-yellow orange between window and lamp, the mere sight of her enough to steal the breath from his lungs for a long moment as his heart takes up all the space in his chest. It’s difficult to let the weight of worry get to him when he’s under her spell like this — it always is — but he’s particularly grateful, this evening, for the sheer magnitude with which he loves her.

Regina had easily been the more anxious of them two of them for the entire duration of her pregnancy, magic always on her mind (and, for a brief while, her mother after Cora had made an unexpected visit to his office earlier this year, though he can’t say he blames Regina for fretting over that). It hadn’t been until Valentine’s that real, honest-to-god _fear_ had gripped at Robin’s heart like ice. He knows — he _knows_ how important it’d been to Regina that she do this here, how adamant she’d been at avoiding the hospital unless absolutely necessary, but where it had soothed her nerves it had torn Robin’s to pieces to stay supportive of the decision. In retrospect, his concerns were a small price to pay for her peace of mind going into this, but even though the initial spike of fear dulled with time it’s never really gone away, not completely.

At least not until now.

Now, fear has thawed into gentle gratitude, a warm balm he feels all the way down to his bones. Now, it matters little to him which of them had the stronger or more sensible argument over the where of it all. Now, Robin feels nothing but relief at the ease with which his wife’s chest rises and falls with breath, the way color slowly starts to creep back into her cheeks. Now, all that’s left for him to do is continue to _marvel_ over the magic they’ve made together — over the son Regina has brought into this realm, or any Other.

She glances up at him just as his heart comes back to rest, his breathing even once more, and her smile softens around the edges. “Did you see them off?”

Robin nods and pushes himself off of the doorjamb, crossing the threshold into the room and making his way toward the chair still pulled up next to her side of the bed. “They’re heading back to the house now. I told them I’d call with an update when I knew more.”

Regina’s smile turns a little sleepy as she leans back against the headboard, returning the soft kiss he claims before he settles into the chair next to her. “You know,” she muses, not entirely successful at suppressing a slight yawn, “as… trying as it can be to have any one of them around for an extended period of time, I’m actually really glad they’re staying for a while.”

“Your sisters wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And I have to say, even I’m honored Mal’s spending her last two months before hibernation with us. She’s good to have in a crisis, should one arise. Not that it will,” he adds hurriedly, not wanting to give her reason to worry at the moment. “I just meant —“

“I know what you meant,” she chuckles, shaking her head at him, clearly bemused. “Only you would look at this situation and find it _comforting_ to have a dragon around the house. Almost anyone else would be worried about what could happen to the baby.”

He relaxes a little, tries — and fails — to bite back a grin. “It’s the opposite, really,” he argues. “The prospect of slaying a dragon just to get _close_ to him is enough of a deterrent for anyone who would mean to do him harm.”

Her eyes grow warm at that, affectionate and kind, and the reverence her gaze holds when she turns her attention to their son has Robin’s heart flipping in his chest. “A whole coven for a guard,” she muses idly, fingers sweeping over Henry’s crown. “You’ll be well protected, that’s for sure.”

“Him and anyone who might follow.”

“Oh god,” she groans, wincing a little even as she’s careful to keep her touch featherlight. “Let’s put a pin in that for now. My body is not up for entertaining that discussion for a while.”

Robin holds up a hand in surrender but still his smile doesn’t fade, even as his own fatigue begins to settle in around the edges. “Any word on when you can go home?” he asks, hand settling gentle but firm at her elbow.

“As long as everything’s okay? Couple of hours,” she sighs. “And if that’s the case, then we should call the house and make sure they have dinner pulled together by the time we get there because I am _starving_.”

“As you wish,” he agrees, laughing lightly. Henry stirs a bit in her arms, snuffling slightly, prompting Regina to adjust her hold on him. “Did he nurse while I was up front?”

“Avidly,” she drawls, turning her attention back to Robin as Henry settles. “What time do your parents get in tomorrow morning?”

“They won’t need to be picked up before eight,” he says. “They promised to let us know when they left the house for Birmingham. Mal or I can drive down to Boston in the morning to meet them.”

“I’m not sure who I’d rather part with,” she teases, flashing him a smile. “I want you home with us, but if we send Mal, who will defend the house from attack?”

“Don’t be cheeky,” he murmurs, but he leans in to capture another kiss anyway, her lips soft and her smile infectious as she returns it with ease once more.

The sleeve of her nightshirt slips off of her shoulder as he pulls away. Attention diverted, Robin drops a quick kiss to her bared skin before pulling it back up for her. Henry stirs again, arms flailing a bit as he starts to fuss. Heart twinging, Robin opts to shift his perch from the chair to the bed and reaches out a hand. He’s loathe to move Henry too much right now lest it disrupt him more, but it’s easy to provide distraction, to try to calm and soothe. Henry’s tiny hand collides with his own as it flails a bit and Robin chooses to steer into the skid, gently works a finger into Henry’s fist until he holds, grasps tight and stills. “Hey now,” Robin murmurs, smiling when Henry’s gaze shifts in his general direction. “No need to worry, my boy. Daddy may not be a dragon but if he can survive a lint gremlin, he can handle anything.”

Regina snorts, legitimately, actually _snorts_ at him, and Robin is thoroughly unsurprised to find her leveling him with a _look_ when he flicks his gaze up to her. “You know, you can’t always use that as your claim to fame when it comes to your ability to deal with anything magical.”

Robin’s lips twist, indignation mingling with amusement as he contemplates a reply. His heart aches, just a touch, at the thought that occurs to him, but intuition usually serves him well, when it comes to his wife, and something in his very core tells him that this may help heal, instead of hurt. “Alright then,” he sighs, turning his attention back to their son. “I’ve stood up to your grandmother.” He hesitates for a beat before half-glancing back up at her, and where her expression has grown more serious her smile still hasn’t faltered. “Twice,” he tacks on, arching an eyebrow playfully.

Regina just shakes her head at him but everything about her expression is fond, loving, and in her eyes Robin sees his own overwhelming sense of gratitude reflected back at him. “Well,” she murmurs, voice sounding a little thick as she redirects her own gaze back to their son, “I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of frightening magical creatures —“

“Not monsters?”

“Only they can use the M-word, try to remember that,” she says, as much to Henry as to him. It has Robin smiling with ease, and it takes more willpower than he’s proud of to resist the temptation to lean in and kiss her again. “Of all the fearsome creatures I’ve faced,” she admits, a soft, tentative thing that Robin nearly misses, “I’m most frightened of her. But your daddy didn’t need magic to take a stand against her so trust me, we’re going to be just fine.”

The last vestiges of dusk start to flicker and fade outside and still it’s quiet within these walls, love lingering in the air as Regina catches, holds his gaze over Henry’s tiny form. There’s a faint glistening in her eyes, a sure sign that she’s fighting against tears, but the moment is gone almost as soon as they’d captured it.

Henry releases his grip on Robin’s finger, fists flailing again until one of his hands collides, catches against the necklace draped around Regina’s neck. His hold isn’t particularly strong but it’s unsteady, uncoordinated and unpredictable to the point where Regina grimaces in discomfort when Henry’s fingers catch against the band of her wedding ring where it’s hooked onto the chain. The amethyst glints as it catches against the lamplight, but not even that is enough to distract Henry, whose fussing has broken open into full on whining now, discontent obvious.

“Clearly he’s not as impressed with me as you are,” Robin mutters, careful to keep his tone light, teasing.

“I think he might just be tired,” Regina says, groaning a little as she pries Henry’s fingers away from her jewelry. “He hasn’t slept since, you know, he was born.”

“I’m sure it’s been a very few trying hours for you, Henry,” Robin soothes, hands hovering nearby as Regina sits up a little to shift their son from one arm to the other. She settles him into the crook of her far arm with less finesse than she probably intended, and this time it’s the other sleeve that slips off of her shoulder. Robin _tsk_ s in mild annoyance but reaches for her anyway to help so she can keep her focus on getting Henry to settle. He’ll have to dig around in her bag before they leave tonight, he thinks, to see if he can find some sort of alternative if this top doesn’t manage to stay on properly — 

“Hang on,” she murmurs, just as his fingertips are brushing against the edge of the sleeve. Robin hesitates, hand hovering even as his brow wrinkles a little at the request. Her focus is on Henry still, her own brow knit together as she watches their son whimper and whine, but after a few seconds she nods her permission. “Just… make sure it’s secure.”

“O...kay,” Robin says, confusion evident in his voice even as he makes to comply. Carefully, he drags the sleeve back up over her shoulder, adjusting it a few times until it’s settled properly over her, albeit a bit higher than before. Still Regina won’t tear her gaze from Henry, even as Robin pulls away, and his curiosity gets the better of him. “Regina, what —“

“Just… wait a minute,” she says, but there’s a spark in her eyes where there wasn’t before, clarity beginning to creep in around the edges. Robin does as he’s asked, lets his hand settle atop her thigh while Henry’s fussing breaks the silence. He’s not quite so close to her chest anymore, too far away to reach up and grasp at her necklace, and after a half moment of futile flailing Henry’s whine cracks open into a soft cry. Robin’s fingers twitch in an effort not to reach for their son, to shoulder some of the burden and try to soothe him to sleep, but the instinct has barely fluttered its way from heart to brain before the sleeve of Regina’s top slips off of her shoulder once more, this time lower than before.

Immediately, Regina bursts out laughing.

Robin raises an eyebrow at her. “What exactly is so funny about this?”

“Nothing,” she says, still laughing. “It’s just — I think —” Another laugh bubbles up out of her as she reaches over to push the sleeve as far down as she can without jostling Henry too much. “I think he’s still hungry. Yes, you are, aren’t you?” she coos, fingers dipping beneath the neckline of her shirt to bring her breast up and out. Still, Henry fusses, squirming, but Regina is patient, shushes and soothes and guides him back to her, hand gently cradling his head. It takes him a few seconds to really be aware of what’s in front of him, but once he’s made sense of it his lips are around her nipple in an instant, cries quelled for the time being.

Much like his son, it takes Robin a few seconds longer than he’s really proud of to put the pieces together, but when he does the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile. “How long did you say it was before your magic started to manifest?”

Her lips twist with the effort of fighting a full smile but her gaze stays trained on Henry. “Consciously or unconsciously?”

“Either,” Robin chuckles, fingers skimming softly up the length of her arm. “Both.”

“Well I didn’t even know I had it until I was a teenager,” she reminds him needlessly, “but the older I get, the more I think I was using it unconsciously as a kid. I, uh, had quite the temper back then. You know how my magic gets when I get worked up.”

“Yes,” he hums, “I think the number of earthquakes in the area has increased exponentially since you moved to Massachusetts, darling.”

She flushes slightly, but Robin thinks that may have more to do with the particular… _enthusiasm_ with which Henry’s currently nursing. Her subsequent wince supports the notion somewhat, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced with a bemused smile, and reverence in her eyes. “I was at least six before that may or may not have started happening. If Henry’s this resourceful in hour three, I shudder to think what things might be like if he ever succumbs to terrible twos.”

“We knew this was a possibility,” Robin reminds her gently.

“I know,” she says, and where there’s been a slight edge to her voice, tone tinged with worry from the moment he found her on their kitchen floor amidst mountains of pastries last summer there’s none of that now. She seems less anxious, now that Henry’s finally _here_ , and with the manifestation of his magic, however unconscious or possibly deliberate, Regina seems resigned to the new reality and, after resting for a proper spell, ready to face the challenge head on. “And it’s — I’m not upset, or anything, really. Honestly, I’m kind of… glad.”

“Really?”

Regina nods, fingers smoothing over the wisps of hair atop Henry’s head while he nurses. “Even if he didn’t start using magic until he was older, I’d want… I want to make sure he knows what he’s capable of — knows _who he is_ ,” she says, emphatic and kind (and maybe, Robin thinks, just a touch desperate, buried down deep). “It’s just… easier, this way. There won’t be any room for doubt.”

And heart beating out of his chest Robin forgets, for a moment, quite how to breathe. She wants so much _better_ for their children than she could have ever hoped to have had, growing up half, and all at once he recalls pieces of their conversation, the day she discovered she was pregnant with Henry. Now more than ever Robin trusts her, implicitly so, and beyond a shadow of a doubt he believes in her ability to take magic by the reins, and _fly_.

He could not love her more if he _tried_ , and among stars and stones alike Robin counts himself exceedingly lucky to have her as the mother of his children — and to bask in the burning bright that is her love.

“Let’s just... hope he doesn’t do this sort of thing all of the time,” she sighs, collecting herself a bit and prompting Robin to take a measured breath to steady himself. “I really don’t want to think about ways to explain spontaneous indecent exposure to the midwife in the next couple of hours — or your _parents_ , while they’re here.”

_There’s_ that underlying current of concern she’s carried the last nine months, but it’s… mild, tame by comparison, and as Robin’s gaze drifts to their son once more he feels a slight sense of pride flare up in his chest. “You know,” he muses, shifting to sit next to her properly, their arms brushing against each other, “I have to hand it to him, for only being a few hours old, he’s already got remarkable problem-solving skills. He knew what was between him and what he wanted and made an effort to remove the obstacle.”

“Okay, _Professor_ ,” she says, equal parts amused and warning. “How about we _don’t_ start encouraging acts of defiance this early on? I don't want to send the message that magic will solve all of his problems.”

“Given how many magical mishaps you've found yourself in the midst of over the years, I'm positive you won't allow that to happen, darling.”

She half-glance over at him, eyes narrowed in mock-irritation before she's looking back down at Henry and leaning in close. “You know,” she murmurs, a half-whisper, “I'm the one who took on the lint gremlin, baby.”

“That you did,” Robin chuckles, any last vestiges of concern quickly disappearing at her lightness and ease. Carefully, he curls in a little closer and rests his head on her shoulder, content for a moment to just simply… watch the pair of them. “He seems much happier,” Robin observes, lips curving up at the way Henry’s tiny palm rests gently against Regina’s chest.

“Very, though I don't blame you, honey,” she soothes, her nose wrinkling (rather adorably, if he's being honest) when Henry pulls his mouth away just long enough to try and seek her out. He looks a touch overwhelmed, poor thing, eyes wide as he struggles to make out what's directly in front of him, but his whole face relaxes once Regina leans in close enough to catch his focus properly. “Mama gets very… upset when she goes hungry for too long,” she says, tapping his nose affectionately and laughing lightly when Henry reaches for her finger reflexively.

He's got her eyes, Henry, deep and rich and warm. It's almost impossible not to be transfixed by him, but there's something else there, in the way Regina’s voice had tapered off for a second. “...you were going to say crabby, weren't you?”

He's struck gold: Regina freezes up a bit, caught out, but where anyone else would flush or be dismissive of the moment, she merely shifts out from under him in order to look at him properly, her smile tight around the edges. “I'd like to remind you,” she says, and it's a careful thing, almost falsely bright, “that I am currently nursing our infant son, who I brought into this world less than four hours ago. So do not, Robin Locksley,” she warns, “even so much as _think_ about the mere possibility of an idiom interpretation right now.”

Robin’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he tries, valiantly (and fails, spectacularly) to bite back a grin. “Twice was more than enough for you?” he says, unable to help teasing her a bit.

“ _Now_ who’s being cheeky?” she mutters, but her smile has softened around the edges, irritation gone from her tone and ire vanishing from her expression. This time she’s the one who leans in on impulse to capture a kiss, gentle and warm and still somehow fervent, and even after she breaks it she stays close, nose nuzzling against his own. “Why don’t you do me a favor and go call the house?” she ventures. “Make sure they’ve got dinner handled?”

The smallest of laughs bubbles up out of him, he cannot help it, but he relents at long last, darting in for one last quick kiss. “As you wish.”

She sets about getting Henry properly settled while Robin sinks back into the chair at her bedside and digs his phone out of his pocket, tucks herself back into her shirt and adjusts a little on the bed. But it’s… impossible, really, not to be drawn to her — not when she’s at the center of his orbit, always — and for just another moment longer Robin allows himself the indulgence. Henry starts to fuss again, just slightly, but it’s mild by comparison, more whimpers than whines. Gingerly, Regina lifts Henry up and settles him against her chest and shoulder, her hand smoothing rhythmically over his back while she murmurs soft words of encouragement into his ear. After half a moment of flexing his fingers at Regina’s collar, Henry’s hand encloses around the chain around her neck once more, keeping her close.

And with a kiss pressed to Henry’s temple, Regina smiles.

To date, Robin thinks, there hasn't been another moment in all his life — in this realm or any Other — that's been quite so magical as this one.


End file.
